His Portion
by claraowl
Summary: Sho is desperate; there is only one way for her to hear what he has to say... what will his portion be when it is his turn to listen? one-sided Sho/Kyoko; oneshot


**OKAY! I know that I should be working on the continuation/sequel/thing to "The Truth about Onee-san" or at least the A-Z Story Game "Grinded" entry, but I found this only partly done and was inspired to finish it. I do not own Skip Beat, and hope that you mildly enjoy this.**

**To make things perfectly clear: I do not like Sho, but he had temporarily started to redeem himself when I started writing this. Hence, he does not die in a pit of fire. This fic takes place many, many, many, **_**many**_** years in the future, when he might've actually matured a bit. Please take this time gap into account when thinking that the characters are OoC.**

"But, Sho," Shoko protested, upon raising her eyes from the music sheet, "if you sing this, you might ruin your image completely."

"If I don't sing it at least once, I'll go insane," he informed her quietly. "I may cut the last verse, though. I don't know what she'd do to me if I suddenly gave up on showbiz."

"Or if you mention her name in the song," Shoko noted, glancing through the lyrics again.

"It might be worth it, though," he laughed humorlessly, "just to get her to look at me with something other than hatred for once." After a pause, he added, "At this point, I'd even settle for surprise. It's easier to handle than the pity she's been showing me lately."

"I'll set up the studio," his manager smiled softly, "so get ready to sing. We can edit out her name later, if you decide to do so."

"Okay," he whispered, staring at the water-damaged music sheet in his manager's hands. "I'll get ready."

The initial recording of the song went well, despite Sho's voice breaking once, twice, many times. The band members said nothing; they knew better than to do that. There was something different about the singer, but they were uncertain as to its precise cause. Yes, they heard the girl's name – and, yes, they could hear the singer's emotions laid bare in his song – but not a single person in the room except the singer himself knew exactly for what he was apologizing. Not even Shoko had been told the whole story; the singer had not wanted her to think less of him. But now…

Now, had she asked him, he would have told her everything, given his currently fragile state of mind. Now, he might have even told her his real name. But she did not ask, and for that he was grateful. He was not sure if he could survive the opening of his old wounds, his old acts.

Not after what he had seen.

His next concert went well – the opening songs were later renowned to critical acclaim. He wiped some sweat off of his forehead, and beamed at his fans. His eyes scanned the front few rows, hoping against hope to see an image from his past there. The smile left his eyes when reality reared its ugly head, as it had at all the other concerts since that day. Of course, it hadn't stung quite so much at the beginning. He signaled to his band, and faced the crowd.

"Are you enjoying yourselves?" he called to the crowd, injecting a confidence that he suddenly did not feel into his voice.

The crowd roared happily in response, teenage girls squealing and shrieking at their idol. He smiled.

"Then I hope that you enjoy this last song. It's a bit different than what you're used to, but give it a listen anyway, okay?"

More excited shrieks echoed from the crowd.

"Well, then… here goes nothing." He swallowed, and began to sing.

_As I sing to the wall_

_I imagine your face_

_The way it used to be_

_In our past days_

It was slower than most of his ballads had been in the past, and his voice was more mournful – some of the girls in the audience swore that he even sounded a little wistful.

They were spellbound.

_But those days are gone now_

_The past is the past_

_What wouldn't I give _

_To make those memories last?_

Usually, Sho would walk the stage at his concerts, making eye contact with a few lucky ladies. Now, he simply stood still, gazing out at the crowd – yet somehow beyond them, as if he were not seeing them at all.

_But looking back now_

_I see there's no way_

_I could make up for_

_How I ruined those days_

He ducked his head, suddenly, as if he could no longer bear to look at them.

"He looks ashamed," one girl whispered in awe.

"But he's Fuwa Sho! He doesn't feel shame!" another protested.

_And you accuse me, _

_Your big golden eyes_

_Screaming, "You used me, _

_Made my life nothing but lies!"_

The audience was silent, now, from the pain in his voice; offstage, Shoko actually bit her nails – a habit she had broken herself of in junior high. The event was worrying enough to call for it.

_I'm not sure if it's karma_

_Maybe it's been fate from the start_

_But since you've been gone_

_I've been falling apart…_

Sho swallowed, and looked back up at his audience for the echo.

…_falling apart…_

This was followed by a brief musical interlude; there was some whispering among his fans. Why did he sound so sad, so…broken? What did he do? And, mostly: Who is he singing to?

_I know there's nothing I can say_

_You said it, clear and sharp_

_I'm the one to blame_

_For the holes in your heart_

This verse was a little faster; Sho sang as if the words were being wrenched from him against his will.

_So much has changed, now_

_You've gone so far_

_I wish I'd known then_

_How… _amazing_ you are_

Some of the girls were crying; their precious Fuwacchi looked like he was about to collapse from guilt. What had he done, and to whom? What had made him change his famously stubborn mind?

_The world is so cruel_

_I can barely breathe_

_I'll never forgive myself_

_For taking you from me_

Shoko wondered if she should've had a doctor waiting in the wings; Sho really did look like he could barely breathe. Hadn't she heard somewhere that psychological wounds were much more painful than physical ones?

_And you accuse me, _

_Your big golden eyes_

_Screaming, "You used me,_

_Made my life nothing but lies!"_

Normally, the audience would've started singing the chorus with him by now, at least softly. Today, for this song… they were silent except for a few sobs and hushed whispers.

_I am held prisoner_

_Fitting punishment sent from above_

_For denying your worth_

_I've fallen in love…_

Sho's voice broke, badly, on the last line; he choked on the echo as well. His head dropped, shielding his eyes from the hundreds – thousands – of cameras pointing his way.

… _fallen in love…_

The audience watched with wide eyes. Not only was this song an apology, but a confession. But to whom? One of the girls from his "Prisoner" PV? Or was that just a play on words?

Sho swallowed, and made his decision. Damn the media; he needed to say this, so that she could hear him. She'd refused to listen to him when he'd called – she'd even ignored him when he'd knocked at her door, defied meeting him at LME, TBM, anywhere – she would hear him now, even if she wasn't here. This would be all over the newspapers by morning, he knew, his reputation be damned. Who needs Japan when you have a chance to get the world back?

And to think, he'd had the world once, and thrown it away.

_Kyoko, I'm sorry_

_That this is all I can say_

_Is there anything at all_

_That would let me hold you today?_

These words were met by a moment of dead silence, and then a haze of whispers. A few of the girls in the audience who happened to have that name nearly passed out.

"You don't think it's the actress Kyoko?"

"Well, there are a lot of Kyokos in show biz – or she might even be someone from his hometown!" The girl had no way of knowing, of course, that the Kyoko in question fit both categories.

_I could tell them my name_

_I'll keep my vow_

_If you hold me once more_

_I'll… bow out now…_

The song ended, and Sho bowed his head. His voice was hoarse and pained when he spoke. "Thank you all very much for coming tonight, and for listening to my newest song." He nodded to them – the audience was silent, taking in the meaning of the last stanza of the song – and hurried off of the stage. The next morning, the tabloids would make a grand hubbub over the fact that the great Fuwa Sho, as he left the stage, had rubbed his hand over his eyes – as if to scrub away tears.

Shoko sighed as she followed her (now openly distraught) charge to his dressing room. She handed him a bottle of water, and allowed him to shut the door in her face – softly, as if begging for a moment alone. The wearied manager flipped open her phone and dialed.

"Yes, hello, Kyoko-chan. This is Shoko. I'm sorry to be calling you so late…"

"He sang your name, Kyoko-chan. I'm so, so, so sorry…I tried to stop him, so many times, but he was already onstage…."

"I know, I know. I'll take care of it. Before the word gets out, will you please reconsider what I asked you before? You don't even have to say anything. Just listen to him, and leave, if you need to."

"I just thought I'd ask…just this once… as a friend. Please."

"Really? Thank you. Where would you like meet?"

"Okay. Would an hour from now be good?"

"Yes, that's probably a good idea. Just… please, don't let Sho see. He's dangerously close to his breaking point now, and… I've never seen him this depressed."

"I _tried_ giving him pudding."

"…He took one bite of it and left the room. I later found several holes the size of his fist in the wall, and a pile of wadded-up tissues."

"That was a week ago… he only moves when work is involved now. He knows that you'd get mad at him if he just stopped performing."

"It's the only reason he gave me. He's desperate, Kyoko-chan. He's even been ignoring Mimori-chan…."

"Well, yes. I'm just worried about him."

"Thank you. We'll see you then." She shut the phone, and then tapped lightly on Sho's door. He was quiet now. "Sho, Kyoko-chan has agreed to hear you out. Make yourself presentable. We'll see what she says, and then figure out what to tell the press, okay?"

There were, quite suddenly, a series of clunks and crashes behind the door. It burst open to reveal and extremely disheveled-looking Sho. "She… really?" he breathed.

"Yes. Now shower, change, and do something about your hair. Do you really want to see her when you look like a wreck?"

Sho didn't even bother shutting the door as he half-dashed back into the room, stripping off his costume as he went. Shoko entered the room, shaking her head, and closed the door behind her.

Kyoko sat at one of the tables in Darumaya – she'd realized the eventuality of this confrontation, and had requested that she meet him here. The both okami-san taisho had heartily approved of this idea, having finally heard the story from the girl they considered their own daughter (taisho had even volunteered himself for the role of intimidating all potential love interests long prior to this, and done his job _very_ well). Taisho, upon receiving the warning phone call, had immediately begun sharpening his knives. He was currently honing the blade of his largest cleaver; Kyoko found the sound very comforting. The bell attached to the door jingled, alerting all present to the beginning of the show-down with Sho.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Kyoko-chan," Shoko smiled, coming over to stand next to the table, being careful not to block taisho's view. Okami-san hurried over to ask if Shoko would like anything, but the manager politely declined. This shouldn't take too long – she'd recorded the song, and now handed the small music player to Kyoko. "Please… just give it a chance."

Kyoko, comforted by the knowledge that several of those dear to her were present, nodded, put the earbuds in, and pressed the play button.

Sho stood over by the door, still stunned into silence and stillness at the image before him. He'd thought that he'd mentally prepared himself – physically, he was still disheveled, as he'd been in too much of a rush to match his socks or comb his hair – but he was very wrong. He'd thought, given what he had seen, he would be ready to see her again in the flesh… but no.

She was beautiful. Why hadn't he ever really _looked_ at her when she'd lived with him – for him? Why hadn't he ever realized how strong she was, how smart, all on her own – how much of a genius she was, to manage to keep them both in house and food? Why hadn't he realized all of this, and so much more, when he'd been in a place where he could still reach up and touch her?

Why hadn't he ever _seen_ her while he'd had a chance?

He knew how he'd been then, and he knew that he'd never stop regretting it. He knew now that he might not even get a rise out of her, much less have her run back into his arms. He knew – oh, how he knew! – that she'd surpassed him the moment he'd spoken ill of her. He knew…

He knew that she had every right to never even _look_ at him again.

He swallowed, and forced himself to move, to stand before her. Her eyes were closed, as if she was analyzing the song… or sleeping through it. He heard the player whir to a stop. She removed the earbuds, opened her eyes, and looked up at him.

Taisho exited the kitchen, knives in hand, and stood only ten feet away. A figure moved slightly in one of the booths.

"What do you expect to come of this, Shotaro?" Her tone was not angry, nor clipped, nor sad – nor anything. It was soft, but devoid of emotion… she sounded almost tired.

He swallowed, and dropped to his knees. "Nothing, actually. I've grown up enough to know that."

"Then why put it in a song and sing it for all your fans to hear?" He could not look at her eyes, did not want to see what they held. Her tone had not changed.

"I… I just wanted to apologize… I wanted to do it privately, but I thought this would be the only way you'd hear me, believe me." He slumped, for one of the very first times in his life, into a dogeza. "I'm so sorry, Kyoko. Please… I don't expect you to – to jump back into my arms, or to even want to look at me ever again. You have that right, and I know better than to even try to deprive you of it now. I just wanted you to know…" his breath hitched uncomfortably in his throat. "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry for what I did, and I'll never stop regretting the way I treated you."

He heard the scrape of her chair, and she crouched down next to him. "Sho-chan," she smiled now, gently, and tipped his chin up. "It's okay. I forgive you."

He dared, for one wild moment, despite what he had seen and done, to hope. She had called him _Sho-chan_, like she had back then… back when he'd had the world, and not yet thrown it away.

"I moved on a long time ago, Sho-chan," her voice was gentle, but not tender, as it had been in years long gone by. She removed her hand from his chin, allowing him to sit up. "It's time that you did, too. I don't think that it's possible for us to ever be as close as we were when we were very young, but one day we might be able to be friends again."

He ducked his head so that she could not see the flash of emotion in his eyes. She probably knew, anyway. She'd always known. "I'd like that." His voice was strangled, and the words fought against what he would have said a year ago. "I'd really like that."

She rose to her feet gracefully, still wearing her gentle smile. "Now stand up, Sho-chan. It's time for you to walk forward – and be sure to thank Shoko, from now on, when she gets you pudding, okay?"

"Okay." He stood and nodded obediently. "Thank you."

Kyoko made a small motion to Shoko, who nodded. "Sho, why don't you go wait in the car? I'm just going to take a minute in here to figure out what we're going to tell the public, okay?"

Sho nodded. "'Bye, Kyoko."

"Farewell, Sho-chan," she smiled, handing him his music recording. "It was a nice song."

"It was for you," he choked again, bitterly. "They always used to be, and always are now. I wish that they always were."

"Maybe there's someone else close to you that you can sing for," Kyoko suggested, tilting her head subtly at Shoko. "Once you've got your head on straight again."

He nodded again, and hurried out the door – he could have sworn that he heard a knife being sheathed – before he risked crying in front of her. The car door slammed shut behind him, and the only words he spoke to Shoko when she came out were "Thank you." She had nodded understandingly, and driven him home in silence.

The next day, there was still a media storm, but the combined forces of Akatoki and LME were enough to quiet all but a few speculators. The song, the public had been told, was for an old childhood friend of his, one whom he'd taken for granted. The public was slightly skeptical, but held its tongue to spare Sho – who was, after all, by now a multinational singing sensation. The public never did learn his real name. Sho remained silent, for once, about the whole affair, and let the agencies deal with the mess he'd created without any further interference.

Because he'd known better than to expect anything romantic to come of this. He'd known from the moment that he'd seen her slipping into the park with a tall, naturally blond man… he'd known that he never had a chance, and that had been confirmed when he'd glimpsed that same man sitting, only slightly hidden, in one of the booths.

He'd only wanted to apologize, so he could clear the air… and finally move on.

In return, she'd given him a chance to regain part of what he had lost – the truest friend he'd ever had. He'd be damned before he'd toss aside this gift – a gift to start anew, even if he would never be the first in her heart again. It was the very most he could ask for, and far more than he'd ever deserve. At least he had seen her smile again. He'd never realized exactly how much he'd missed it.

He was thankful… even if he'd lost the greatest thing he could ever have. She'd allowed him to have a portion of it, and for that, he was thankful.

He just had never known that a portion of something so wonderful could ever taste so bittersweet.

**Thank you for reading!**

**I hope that you liked the song. ^^ It came into my head during geometry class, and refused to leave – so I made a fic for it (six months later). **

**I don't know what got into me with this fic… I hope that it came across well! Do you pity Sho now? I apologize for his crying, but I really think that he was at his most mentally fragile breaking point. **

**Please review! **


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